Every time we get together and find some privacy, we’ve been going a little closer to the fornication that Ben keeps nattering about. I’m not sure I see the big deal, you know? It feels good, really good, and yeah, I do keep wanting more… but I can’t see myself turning into some uncontrollable slut over it. Can’t see myself drooling over guys from school to get it.
Once school’s out for the year, opportunities are a hell of a lot easier to find. Mum’s at work most days, and though I’m not supposed to have visitors, it’s not like we have nosey old women neighbours who’ll spy and tell Mum that I had a boy over. So Mark comes over after breakfast and lets himself in the back door. I stop the DVD I’m watching and stand up to kiss him.
“Ooh, movies and snuggling?” he asks suggestively.
“Not on your life, boyo – if Mum comes home unexpectedly I want more warning than ‘click, shove, MAISYYOU’REGROUNDED!’ … thanks!”
“Oh, easy for you to laugh!”
He pretends to sober up.
“Come with me…”
“Awww, but it looks comfy… and you have Twisties!”
“Huh – fine, stay here. I’ll be in my room.”
He follows meekly down the hall, snickering.
I close the bedroom door and he grabs me around the waist, pulls me to him and kisses me. Man, this boy can kiss. When I can be bothered coming up for air, I break away and grab his hand.
“Come lie down with me – you wanted comfy, remember?”
He pulls back a little.
“I want comfy and close, that’s all,” I say, and grin.
We lie down, side by side, and kiss again. Then his breathing gets heavier and faster, and he puts a hand on my waist, slides it up under my tshirt and over one breast. I freeze for a moment, but he slips a finger under the bra and it grazes my nipple and OHMYGOD my skin goes tingly and it feels GOOD. Then we’re kissing again and that feels even better, and he stops kissing my mouth and starts to kiss my neck and my ribs and my breasts and then he’s sucking on a nipple.
“Sorry,” he says, and stops, looking kinda silly.
“I didn’t say stop.”
“Maybe we should, though.”
“Mmm… you’re probably right.”
I pout. I know he’s right, but I want more. Now.
The next day he sneaks over, I do to him what he did to me – lie him on his back, pull his tshirt up, slide my fingers lightly over his muscled belly and chest, kiss his neck and throat and his chest. His breathing speeds up whenever I kiss his neck, and I smile. Got him.
We don’t just spend our time snogging and feeling each other up. We watch movies, go swimming, go to church and parties and youth group. We do the friends thing, and sometimes we go somewhere quiet and do the other stuff.
One evening, liberally smeared with mozzie repellant, we lie in our place near the beach on the river. We eat another picnic, then push it aside to make room to lie down. We kiss and nuzzle at each other’s neck and, feeling daring, I move a hand slowly downwards instead, over the hip of his boardies, down the outside of his thigh. Again his breath gets faster and heavier, then he pulls my hips against his and kisses me hard, shoving his tongue into my mouth. At first it’s just uncomfortable, then I realise that the hard bulk pressing against me is his erection, and he’s really turned on, and it’s like hearing I’ve won the lottery, except the feeling’s all in my groin. Suddenly I see how this whole thing can get dangerously addictive, and I don’t care. He stops, moves away a bit. I frown and start to close the distance, but he puts a hand on my stomach and pushes gently so I roll onto my back. Then his hand worms downwards til it’s between my legs, and only thin boardshort fabric between it and my skin. He presses, feeling out the curves, then just strokes very gently, and I have my first orgasm.
“Holy crap, was that supposed to happen?” I say once I have my voice back.
“That was amazing.”
“Can I – do the same for you? Seems unfair, otherwise.”
“Should we really be doing this?”
“It’s done now, right? Can’t hurt to reciprocate, I figure?”
“What do I do?” I ask, moving a hand to his hip and kissing his throat.
Just like that, his breathing changes and I know he’s done arguing. I trail my fingers over his shorts to the erection, curious to actually feel one. It’s hard, like muscle on someone lifting something heavy, and larger than I’d imagined. It’s not completely smooth, more like slight ridges at odd angles, and one big ridge the entire length, down the front. Huh. The things you don’t learn in sex ed, eh? There’s a softer part on the end, more sensitive I’m figuring, because he draws in a quick breath as I slide a couple of fingers around it, and his eyes lose focus. I stroke up and down a couple of times, kind of like what I’ve seen guys do to themselves in movies, and he stiffens and grimaces. I stop, worried I’ve caused him friction burn or something. But the grimace is gone, so I tentatively move my fingers again – and he pushes my hand away.
“God, that was -”
He seems lost for words, and just kisses me instead.
I think he liked it.